


IV. Damaged Goods

by ecs



Series: It's a lonely, cold December in my heart. [4]
Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: F/M, OFC - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-16
Updated: 2014-07-16
Packaged: 2018-02-09 04:32:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1969200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ecs/pseuds/ecs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Q shakes his head, inhales, and leans back into the chair. He rubs his temples methodically and Andrew realizes that there is something more serious to the story than what he initially expected. He can tell by the look in Q's eyes - a look of dejection, of despair - that something unfathomable has happened. It is a distinct look... one that Andrew has never seen on Q's face before.</p>
            </blockquote>





	IV. Damaged Goods

"Why don't you take a seat, son?" he finally says, taking off his glasses and setting them on the cluttered desk.

....

Andrew shifts uncomfortably and sits down on the plush chair that faces Coach Q. As silence pervades the tiny office, Andrew debates in his mind whether or not to break it. His worst trait, indecisiveness, is at work in his mind. Should I wait for him to say something? Or am I supposed to ask my questions? Ultimately, the only thing Andrew can actually decide on is his regret for placing himself in the middle of a situation he doesn't belong in.

For Christ sakes, why couldn't I have just given Brandon some advice and left it at that? It's really none of my business to find out what happened to her. If Hadley wanted Brandon to know, she would've told him. Christ.

"I can't quite understand why you, of all people, want to know about Chris Sinclair. Shawzy, you've got to be the least nosy person on this team. But for whatever reason you're interested, I won't pursue it," Q finally says. He is staring right at Andrew. "So what do you want to know?"

Do I really want to know? Do I deserve to know? This is my chance to remove myself from the situation. I can just apologize and leave. Apologize and leave. Do it. 

"I just mainly want to know why he would make his NHL debut, a good one too, and then just quit? Was it entirely out of left field?" Andrew asks, pushing away the voices that have crawled into the crevices of his brain. 

Q shakes his head, inhales, and leans back into the chair. He rubs his temples methodically and Andrew realizes that there is something more serious to the story than what he initially expected. He can tell by the look in Q's eyes - a look of dejection, of despair - that something unfathomable has happened. It is a distinct look... one that Andrew has never seen on Q's face before. 

"Yes," he begins. "I suppose it was very sudden. But it wasn't random, which is what I assume you were inquiring about. It's not like he wanted to quit the NHL - he just couldn't play in the league anymore, couldn't really play at all." One by one, Q peels back layers of the story as if it were an onion. Andrew can't help it, he is inexplicably intrigued by Q's vagueness.

"Was he injured or something?" Andrew blurts out, his curiosity overcoming his patience. 

"Injured, yeah. Not physically. But the kid was damaged goods," Q drawls slowly. Andrew feels a melting pot of emotions - curiosity, confusion, and even sadness. He can't remember a time where he had dreams other than playing in the NHL. And now that he's finally living out his childhood aspirations, he can't think of any reason to leave it all behind. Andrew bets that every single player on the Hawks would say the same. 

"I'm not really sure I'm following," he stammers uncomfortably. Q's eyes, which had drifted towards a picture of the 2013 Stanley Cup winning roster, avert back to Andrew's. For a smidge second, Andrew thinks he sees them narrow. But a moment later, they are as wide and empty as always. He wonders if what he saw was real, or if he was just envisioning it all in his mind. 

"Sorry Shawzy. I'm just trying to get all the details in line in my head," Q counters, his tone on the brink of defensive. Andrew nods understandingly. "Chris Sinclair, lets see. He was a Harvard graduate. Not a very bright kid, but he came from a family of alumni and he was a hell of a hockey player with decent enough grades to get him accepted. We picked him up early in the second round and he played in the AHL for awhile until he was ready to come to the NHL. He scored in his first game which, as you know, is pretty fucking unbelievable. Hell of a hockey player, I'm telling you. He was maybe a couple games in, 13 I think, when everything happened. It was January. We had just gotten off a plane from Dallas and we were waiting for a connecting flight when he got the call. The guys we're throwing a few jabs about it being from his mom, you know the usual "Momma's boy" chirping, when he picked up the phone. You could tell within the first few seconds that there was something terribly wrong. I remember hearing the room quiet and out of the corner of my eye, I could see a few of the guys exchange looks of confusion. His mom was calling from Mass General - she called to say that something tragic had happened. His sister - he had two I think - Ella was a freshman at Harvard. A very good volleyball player, if I remember correctly. Well, anyway, his mom was calling to say that Ella had committed suicide - hung herself in her dorm room... and the roommate found her 4 hours later. It was, obviously, too late," Q swallows hard and looks away. "He broke down right there in the airport. He was sobbing on his knees, choking on the words 'my sister killed herself.' Toews had rushed to his side and held him, while the rest of us absorbed the shock of the news. It was the worst thing I have ever experienced as a coach. Ever. You never get over seeing something like that - seeing someone's entire world fall apart in the span of a minute. I didn't know what to do, no one did really. I just sat with him while Sharp and Keith made arrangements for him and the assistant coach to fly to Boston. We didn't want him to be alone. He took two weeks off from hockey - we all went to the funeral - and then he came back, walked into my office, and quit. I told him I understood 100% and he shook my hand and that was it."

Andrew feels like he is going to be sick. There is a feeling in his gut that won't go away. He can't even begin to fathom how Chris felt like - how Chris feels like. He thinks about how unbearable it would be to lose Josh and Jason - his only brothers, his best friends. 

"I mean I understand, I do, but why did he say he quit? Because he was sad?" Andrew manages to say. The words alone seem callous but the shakiness in his voice tells Q that he is in fact the opposite. 

"There was a little more to it. I mentioned that it happened in January, right? So it must've been a shortly after she returned from Christmas break. Well the story made headlines because the police had found a suicide note addressed to the family. She had profusely apologized about not being able to live up to the standards of her brother and sister, about not being able to live up to the Sinclair standards at Harvard. It was too hard for her. Shortly after, a friend came out and announced that Ella had been begging her parents to let her drop out of Harvard, to go to a university that was less demanding - but they had shook their heads and told her that since her siblings had been able to succeed there, she could too. According to the friend, who had messages to validate her accusations, the parents had told her that she wasn't trying hard enough. It made a terrible situation worse. You're not a parent Shawzy, but you may be one day - and if you are, you will know that there isn't anything harder for a mom and a dad to do than bury their own child and know that while doing so, it is essentially their fault that their baby is six feet under. So when Chris came to see me after his time off, he told me that he felt so guilty for living out his dreams when his sister would never be able to. 'I can't imagine that I'll ever be able step onto the ice again without feeling like I have somehow contributed to my sisters death' were his exact words. He loved his sisters, everyone knew that because he talked about them constantly. It was truly tragic. I won't ever forget it," Q finished.

Andrew's heart is stuck in his throat. He didn't think that the situation could get any worse but once again, he is proven wrong. There must be an intolerable amount of guilt in having your success attributed to the death of someone you loved. Andrew can't imagine being laden with that culpability - it is unthinkable. 

He barely manages to mumble 'Thank you' as he excuses himself from the office. With shaky legs, he stumbles back into the training room. His eyes are glued to the floor but he can feel the heart of Toew's glare on his back. He finds the closest treadmill and slips his headphones into his ears. He turns the volume up until it pounds in his ear drums. He runs and runs until training is over, letting the music drown out Coach Q's words that ring in his head. 


End file.
